In Trouble or in Pain
by H.C. Glennteade
Summary: Five years after she left Oz, Dorothy finds herself in a very troubling world of her own. Back in the Emerald City, her old friends try to squelch bad feelings that refuse to die. '39 Movie fic. Please R&R! Enjoy! STORY NOW COMPLETE FINAL CHAPTER UP!
1. Chapter 1

_Before we begin . . ._

Hello, everyone! I thank you very much for checking out my fanfic. Before we start into the story, I'd like to clarify a few things for everyone.

This fanfic will be based on the 1939 movie. I have not seen Wicked, and while I understand the general gist of it, this fic will not be influenced by it. It has also been quite some time since I've read L. Frank Baum's The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, so this fanfic will be based on events in the movie, for as much as I can see. I just thought I'd mention that to save any confusion!

I plan on updating quite frequently, as I hate it when fanfics get deserted. This story has been brewing in my head for several weeks, so I know where it should be going. Reviews will help me a lot to tell me if things should be changed, I really appreciate the comments! They tell me to keep going! I promise to be as punctual as humanly possible with future chapters! I will also try to watch the language I use as much as possible. I know modern day lingo tends to be an annoyance in Oz fics. I'll avoid it as much as I can.

For this particular first chapter, I apologize if it seems a lot of characters come into play. I assure you that there will not be many more in the future, just the "old faithfuls."

Thank you very much again! I hope you enjoy!

-H.C. Glennteade

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own, nor claim to own, the 1939 MGM film, The Wizard of Oz. This is merely a non-profit fanfic. The characters mentioned here, with the exception of Marty Ramidge, Walter Norman, and Jeremy Greene, are not mine.

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Walking down the hallway, Marty Ramidge ran a hand through his thinning hair. Soon he came to the doorway and peered in unnoticed.

Before him was a room full of children, of various shapes and sizes, squirming with anxiousness. In just a few minutes, lessons would be over for the summer. Until then, however, their attention belonged to their teacher, who was adamantly quizzing them in the meantime.

"The square root of the hypotenuse of a right triangle is equal to the sum of the square roots of the remaining two sides," Walter Norman said rising, in response to his teacher's question. Walter was the little school's oldest, and brightest, student.

"Very good, Walter," Miss Gale praised. For a brief moment, the young woman recalled a time when she had heard a similar recitation, but shook off the notion almost immediately: a place so wonderful could only have been a dream. "All right, students," she adressed, focusing once again on her pupils, "you are dismissed. I wish you and your families a wonderful, safe summer."

The girls and boys filed past her desk towards the exit, offering gleeful words of parting before filing out the door silently, suddenly aware of Mister Ramidge's presence.

"Good afternoon, Mister Ramidge," Miss Gale acknowledged the man after the children had gone, "is there something I can do for you?"

Marty smiled at the young girl. At just seventeen, she seemed young to be teaching so well. The students loved her and she was a fine teacher. That much he couldn't deny, and the truth broke his heart. He didn't want to do the deed he was sent to do, but he had to. It was his job to.

"Well, you see Miss Gale," he began, trying to select the right words, "the school board sent me here . . ." He paused uneasily, the "right words" becoming harder and harder to come by.

"It's about Jeremy Greene," he relented, becoming more straight forward.

"Yes?" The teacher asked, still not fully understanding the situation at hand.

"Well,we've taken a look at the boy's grades, and it seems he's doing quite poorly compared to the other students. I've had a discussion with his parents, and the Greenes are in agreement that, well . . . the problems lie with you, Miss Gale. Of course, it wouldn't be fair if I didn't get your side of the story, and that is exactly why I'm here."

Dorothy was stunned, to the point of being hurt. She loved all of her students dearly, and always tried to be the best teacher she could be. The young girl was sweet and helpful, and the boys and girls seemed to appreciate her. "Well," she began, "I feel that Jeremy's grades are what they are, sir, because he doesn't try. He rarely does his schoolwork and disrupts the classroom at least once a week. I try to help him as much as I can, but he doesn't seem to want it. I don't like to reprimand him, but I feel I have to when everyone's education is at stake." It was all Dorothy could say in her defense, the truth. Her heart in her stomach, she awaited Mister Ramidge's reply.

"Miss Gale . . ." He trailed off, regretting every word he was forced to speak.

"You know times are still tough in this area, for a lot of folks. One of the only reasons we're able to operate this school is through the graces of the Greenes. It may be just a little, one-room school, but it's just about the only school these children would be able to go to. I know that you know little Jeremy is Almira Gulch's nephew, and that they think without a doubt there is a correlation between his grades and that fact. Miss Gale, I don't want you to leave, and I know the children don't want you to, either, but I think for the interests of everyone involved, you'd be better off if you did. I can't imagine you wanting to risk the children losing their chance of going to school."

"Why, of course not," was all Dorothy could reply with, eyes weighted down with sadness. There was no sense in arguing. The Greenes were what kept the school afloat, and they would have their way or there would be no school at all.

"Of course, we'll keep the reason behind your departure quiet. We'll just say that a personal matter has arisen," Marty added.

"Thank you," she replied before flashing red with embarrassment at the realization that it wasn't her name the school board was trying to protect. Mister Ramidge could only smile sadly at her.

On the inside, Dorothy was broken up. She loved her students. They had helped her continue on with her life after some very difficult times: losing Aunt Em to illness three winters before, the passing of her beloved Toto, and so much more. At first, Dorothy had only taken the job as a means to help out the farm, Uncle Henry's abilities to raise more commodities for profit declining as his own health declined. Teaching, however, had proved much more rewarding. She gave her heart to her students, trying her very best for all of them, because most of them did the same for her. And now, it was all over, the young lady's best apparently not being enough.

"I'll go ahead and get my things together, then," she finally said, breaking the silence.

"Take your time," Marty tried to comfort her. Taking her time, however, was the last thing the girl wanted to do.

"You'll be better off, Dorothy," he said, suddenly informal, "it doesn't seem like it now, but it's for the best. You'll thrive elsewhere. I'm sure. Good luck to you."

With that, the two parted ways, and with heavy heart, the teacher began to pack up her belongings.

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"Leaving so soon?" Came a cackling voice from behind. Dorothy, with books in tow, looked around. A few yards down the road ahead of her was none other than Jeremy Greene, his freckled face all sorts of delighted. "Maybe now you'll feel half of the misery that you've caused me. Of course, you should have felt some when you found your dog lying there dead last year. I wanted to make sure you didn't forget what that felt like."

Dorothy stood flabbergasted as the young boy sauntered away. Feeling more hurt than she had felt in a very long time, she continued to rush towards the only haven she had left, her home.


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Readers,

Chapter 2 is out a little later than I anticipated (a day, to be precise) and I apologize. I hope you enjoy it. I'd like to thank Fauna Greywold for her support. Thanks so much, Fauna!

I'd also like to mention the only "new" character in this chapter, though the only thing new about him is his name. "Ardo" is what I have dubbed the Wicked Witch's captain of the guards, for whom I could find no given name. I also make a note of "the Desert," which refers to the Impassible Desert that borders Oz in the books. It's not too confusing, you'll see what I mean. But, nonetheless, I promise I won't reference the book much more, lest I'll be breaking my own guideline. Here, I think I will shut up, and let you read the story for yourselves. Thanks so very much! And remember, your reviews are always welcomed (and appreciated)!

-H.C. Glennteade

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Disclaimer: I do not own, nor claim to own, any part of MGM's 1939 movie, The Wizard of Oz. All characters and locations mentioned here are property of their respective owners and creators.

* * *

Hidden deep beneath the ground, there laid a vast, nebulous cave. Despite being dark, dry, and desolate, it had been abandoned for many years, seemingly forgotten by the world. That is, until the day a resourceful old witch fled to it for refuge.

In Oz above, the land's inhabitants believed the witch had been killed - or, more specifically, melted - by a brave little girl from another world. But, in truth, the event was only a fraud, a part of a great and wonderful scheme the witch had concocted to overthrow Oz's king and rise to power herself. But, the act had left her weak, and even the Wicked Witch herself, at first, was not entirely sure her plan would work.

Five years later, however, she had regained strength, and was confident that the time to act was soon. Her supporters knew of course what had truly happened to her, and stayed as faithful to the Wicked Witch as ever, even if to the rest of the world they feigned joy for her departure. She would always be their queen, and they would do anything to please her. The Wicked Witch realized this, and knew that without their help, she could never attempt to rise to greatness. It was with this in mind that she drained them of their lives, their souls, and their power, promising that one day soon, she would overtake the King and his Advisors and restore them all to glory in her kingdom. They believed her, and surrendered themselves to her, allowing her to absorb their power - she would need it all to complete the task before her successfully. And yet, there was still one follower left to call on, no doubt the most powerful of all. When his virtues became hers, the Wicked Witch would be nearly irrepressible, or so it seemed. Thus, on the day when the witch had decided to embark upon her quest, she called him forward.

"Yes, my Queen?" He asked reverently when he at last appeared before her in her hideaway.

"Ardo, how wonderful it is that you've arrived," she replied in sheer delight. Her eyes glistened, teeming with satisfaction, as she continued, "I am ready now. All of Oz shall soon be ours."

The witch took in his looks of confusion and anxiety. "You have nothing to fear, Ardo. You have always been my fiercest warrior, the captain of my guards, the brightest of them all. I will reward you heartily for being so. I will bring you back first, and you and I shall rule Oz together. There will be no power greater."

"I am not afraid," Ardo retorted, suddenly bold with the witch's compliments. "What do you intend to do?"

The Wicked Witch could hardly contain herself, so proud she was of her plan. "A very good question, dear Ardo. It is truly rather simple, but only so because of the amount of strength I will possess. Should all go as planned, I will merely transform myself, and blend in with the residents of the Emerald City. From there I shall manage to seek out the Scarecrow himself, and annihilate him once and for all. To destroy the Tin Man and Lion at the same time would be an added pleasure, but they would be nothing without their King, I'm sure, and would eventually be gone - one way or another. I know it sounds unclear now, but trust me. I have yet to disappoint you."

"I trust you," he assured her. After all, the words she spoke were true. The witch had yet to disillusion him and Ardo was confident that she never would - even if that confidence could cost him everything.

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"So, gentlemen," the King addressed, removing his spectacles in a flourish and placing them on the desk before him, "how stands our current situation?" Seated in front of the Scarecrow were none other than his advisors and friends, the Tin Man and the Lion. They had met to discuss the land they governed in what had once been the Wizard's Throne Room, which was now more suited to the needs of the King.

"I suppose the same," the Tin Man replied. The Lion nodded in agreement.

"Have there been reports of anything?" The King inquired.

"No more than the usual rumors, which have no truth to sustain them," the most sentimental of the three said.

"Th' same holds true for the forests," Lion added, "I ain't seen a blade of grass outta place, but everyone's still talking."

"I wish there was some way to stifle them," Scarecrow sighed.

"More gossip is stirred up with each passing day, it seems. I've heard everything from pieces of the Wizard's balloon being found near the Desert to sightings of the Wicked Witch. And even some seem to think she kidnapped Dorothy on her way home. It appears that the people of Oz have lived with terror for so long that they find it hard to let it go," the Tin Man reasoned.

"Can't Glinda help us?" Lion wondered aloud.

"She says she's trying to figure something out, I'm sure she will . . . I hope she will," the king answered.

"Yuh think Dorothy's all right, dontcha?" The king of the forest questioned, recalling an earlier statement made by the Tin Man.

"Oh, I hope so. I can't stand to imagine - "

"Come now!" The Scarecrow interrupted. He, too, was guilty of worrying about the best friend he had ever had, but could never stand listening to the things that could have happened to her, wherever she was. "Don't let these rumors get to your head. Dorothy melted the Wicked Witch and safely found her way back to Kansas. More evidence supports that statement than it does disprove it."

The two couldn't help but agree, and felt ashamed for underestimating the ability of their friend, whom they still missed dearly.

"We just miss her so much . . ." Said Lion.

"The pain of grief is the price we pay for love," spoke the Tin Man from his heart. At that moment, the trio felt just how much they loved her. And, in her name, continued to search for a resolution to Oz's current problem.


	3. Chapter 3

Dear Readers,

I figured that since I was a day late with the previous chapter, it would only be fair that I was a day early with this one, so here it is for you! I extend a very sincere thank-you to Fauna Greywolf, HobbitBabe, and pucktofaerie for the time they took to review the story. Thanks so much, guys! It means a lot.

I hope you enjoy this chapter! It's shorter than the other two, but is a little bit of a go-between for future events. No new characters this time, just some old favorites. I'll cut myself off right here before I get off on a tangent. Thank you all once again!

-H.C. Glennteade

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Disclaimer: I do not own, nor claim to own, any part of MGM's 1939 movie, The Wizard of Oz. All characters and locations mentioned here are property of their respective owners and creators.

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Her auburn locks clung to the back of her neck with sweat, but Dorothy never paused to rest. The young lady mercilessly stabbed the ground with her hoe, unearthing a variety of weeds. It was work that had to be done, but it also relieved her of a great deal of stress.

A week had passed since the summer began and her teaching career had ended. Still feeling horribly ashamed, she had yet to tell anyone of the incident. No matter how much she loved teaching, it wasn't herself that she felt sorry for. Dorothy was more upset for poor Toto, whom she had finally found out was killed as part of a cruel act of revenge, and Uncle Henry, who appeared to have enough troubles of his own without adding the girl's to his list. With each new thought came more frustration, and so she continued to chop at the soil around her.

Zeke watched as the young girl avidly completed her chore and sighed. There was no doubt that she was concerned for Henry, whose condition was swiftly declining, but he feared that Dorothy was going to hurt herself. Every night that past school year, when she was through teaching, she came home and got to work again. And now that sessions were over for the summer, the girl was out seemingly as much as he and the others, and never stopped to rest until forced.

"Now, Dorothy, let me handle that," the older farmhand pleaded, walking up to her.

"Thank you, Zeke," she replied, regulating her breathing to hide any hint of fatigue, "but that's quite all right. You have enough of your own work to do."

He moaned inwardly, knowing he was fighting a losing battle.

"Yeah, Zeke," came a voice from behind. Both Dorothy and Zeke turned to realize the speaker was Hunk, who along with Hickory, had come to join in.

"She has the summer off," he continued, "and finally has time to get all that work done she's been wanting to do." None of them could help but chuckle, even Dorothy, who paused momentarily.

She felt horrible for not telling them what happened. They ought to be told, she thought, since they had supported her and her ideas of teaching from the very beginning. They were the ones who had encouraged her to apply for the position when the school first sought out a teacher, and they shared in the joys and triumphs that her first - and last - year of teaching had brought her.

She sighed. "I have plenty more time off than just the summer, Hunk," the girl finally admitted.

The men's laughter and smiles vanished as they took in Dorothy's tone of voice.

"What do you mean?" Questioned Hickory.

With every ounce of strength she could muster up, the young lady began to speak without falter, "The chairman of the school board spoke to me on the last day of school. I'm not to go back next year. They haven't the need for me anymore."

"What?" An incredulous Zeke asked. "Why not?"

Her voice now more evidently tinged with sadness, she explained, "Well, Almira Gulch's nephew is . . .or rather, was, one of my students. His family feels that his poor grades are a reflection of my partialness rather than his lack of ambition, and so it's been decided that it is in the school's best interest that they find a new teacher."

The three men fell silent, having no words to express what they felt that were fitting for a young lady to hear. A moment after Dorothy spoke, Hunk moved closer to her and in an attempt to cheer up the somber girl, quickly wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed them before stepping back, searching her face for a trace of a smile. "Don't worry about it, Dorothy," he offered, "they're the ones missing out, most certainly not you." Zeke and Hickory offered their agreements.

"Oh, thank you so much," she spoke between a sad smile, "but it's not me I'm worried about. It's Uncle Henry. I've been so fearful for him lately, I truly have been. He's just not the same anymore. I haven't had the heart to tell him yet. I just can't imagine what I'd say . . ."

"I'm sure he'll understand, kid," Zeke said.

"Lord knows you tried, Dorothy," Hickory chimed in, "your uncle knows what kind of people make up that family."

The girl tried to agree with them, but she felt as guilty as ever. Inside, Dorothy felt personally responsible for the whole vendetta, and felt that somehow, she had damaged the family name - a name that Uncle Henry and Aunt Em had been very generous to share with her. Even though their farm was among those doing the best in the area, Dorothy felt that the schoolhouse ordeal should have never happened, and that the only reason it did, and the only reason the little feud existed, for that matter, was because of her.

Finding nothing to rid her of her remorse, Dorothy temporarily accepted defeat and returned to her weeding, her mind searching for the words she'd tell her loving uncle.


	4. Chapter 4

Dear Readers,

I hope you will enjoy this fourth chapter. It is one I did not plan on being ready yet, but alas, here it is. I was very excited about writing this chapter, because if all goes well, it will set up for some more exciting things to start happening. I was also nervous about it, however, not wanting to massacre the story. I am fairly satisfied, but you are to be the judges, of course. I'd like to send out a few thank-yous. I'd like to thank Hobbit Babe, pucktofaerie, and Tori7 for taking the time to review. I appreciate them all so much and will take them to heart. I'd also like to thank Tori7 for doing me a great favor and humoring me as I worried about writing this chapter. As you will see, it takes place just a bit after the last. I'm sure you can figure everything out on your own, so the gabbing will end here! Please enjoy! And thank you so very much!

-H.C. Glennteade

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Disclaimer: I do not own, nor claim to own, any part of MGM's 1939 movie, The Wizard of Oz. All characters and locations mentioned here are property of their respective owners and creators.

* * *

He had taken it well, she thought as she crept down the hallway. The farmhands' encouragement days before had certainly helped her, but she wondered why she was ever fearful of him. Uncle Henry knew that she tried, oh how she tried, and that what ended up happening was out of the young girl's control. And still, Dorothy had detested looking into his pale blue eyes and telling him that she had somehow failed. After all of the kindhearted deeds the man had performed for her over the years, it made her feel like the most wretched girl in the world.

But there was, perhaps, something more daunting about gazing into Uncle Henry's azure eyes, and it was simply that with each passing day, they grew all the more wan. He was only the shadow of the man Dorothy once knew, and rightly so. He could be considered quite elderly, especially considering the typical farmer's life that he had lead from the start. The girl imagined that since the death of Aunt Em, her uncle began to slowly digress, so much to the point that now he could barely wander the house comfortably. His tiredness was most visible in his eyes, and it broke Dorothy's heart to meet them, for it made her realize that Uncle Henry, whom she had at times wrongly considered immortal, was really as ephemeral as any being on the earth. No matter the pain, she never dared to stay away from him, and so that night before bed, as she had done countless other nights, she pattered to his room to bid him a goodnight.

"Goodnight, Uncle Henry," his niece addressed before kneeling at his bedside and lightly kissing his cheek, "I love you."

"I love you too, Dorothy," his wispy voice replied, gently clutching her hand. The old man could not have been made happier by the girl before him, whose visit he awaited every night before drifting off to sleep.

She was about to turn and leave, as was customary, but this night Uncle Henry did not release her hand from his grasp as it turned against his palm. "Dorothy, would you please stay a little longer?"

"Of course I will," she complied and resumed her position beside the bed. The young lady looked into her uncle's eyes, her stomach churning as she noticed the absence of their glimmer. Feeling as though he had something to say, Dorothy waited for him to begin.

"This world has been unkind to you, Dorothy," he began after pausing for a moment.

"What do you mean?" She questioned, a genuine sincerity running through her voice.

"Why, your parents were taken from you at such a young age . . . you've had to live your life on this little, dusty farm only to endure setback after setback . . ."

"Oh, Uncle Henry, that isn't true!" The girl replied, almost pleading with the man before her. "I love this farm and everyone here . . . and you, and Aunt Em. The world has been very kind to me, and I'd never change a thing. Not for anything."

"That's what I love about you," Uncle Henry continued after a time, a distant look in his eyes, "ever since you were young, you've always counted your blessings . . . the bad things in life could never truly harm you. How I had prayed you would never grow out of such a sincerity. I believe my prayers were answered."

Dorothy did not know how to reply. She sat wordlessly, paying attention to Henry's far off stare.

"I won't be here much longer, Dorothy," he finally continued, his sight still affixed to the distance, "I know you know that. I hope you understand . . . I have to go find your aunt again . . . but I'll never be able to rest in peace if you don't promise me something . . ."

The girl's eyes glazed over with tears as the impossible reality began to come true. She wouldn't allow a single tear to fall. There was no time to waste on such things. "Anything, Uncle Henry. What do you want?" She asked.

"They don't appreciate you here," he replied, seeming to return to his previous chain of thought, "you give so many your heart and they take it for granted. It is a cruel world, Dorothy, that could cause you such pain after all you have done for it. You don't deserve it. Dorothy, leave this place . . . leave it all behind you. Return to where they loved you. Go back to Oz."

"Oz?" Dorothy questioned, incredulous as she wondered about her uncle's mental state. "But, Uncle Henry, Oz was just a dream, remember? I got hit on the head in the twister and Aunt Em said -"

"Of course Oz was real. Why else are those shoes underneath your bed? It's real, Dorothy. I know. I sent you there."

The girl could hardly believe her ears. The air grew denser as she tried to find logic in it all. How she longed to believe that her uncle was being delusional, but something in his voice would not let her accept such a theory. And how did he know about her shoes? To her and her alone had they been seen as the Ruby Slippers that they indeed were. Auntie Em had thought her absurd when she tried to describe them as anything but ordinary shoes, and urged her to lie down once again. In fact, everyone except Uncle Henry had tried to dissuade her, to convince her that it all was just a dream and that it shouldn't be spoken of as anything else - but, her uncle never tried to stifle her. Nothing was making any sense at all, and Dorothy felt as if her head would burst.

"Don't be afraid," Uncle Henry urged, once again focusing on his niece, absorbing her looks of anxiety. "I may not always be right here with you, but know that a part of me will always be in your heart, watching out for you. Every time you close your eyes, I'll be watching over you."

It was all Dorothy could do to keep from crying. She could decipher absolutely nothing, and began to wonder if she was in fact dreaming.

"But . . . _you sent me_? How?" Was all she could manage.

"That much isn't important, Dorothy. There's not enough time to make you understand."

For some reason, the young lady accepted that, perhaps realizing how true Uncle Henry's reasoning was.

"How could I even get back there?" She questioned.

"Well . . . go the way you came, I suppose." Her uncle took in her skeptical expression. "You'll promise that you'll try for me, won't you?"

"Of course I will, " she told him firmly.

"Thank you . . . but, I think it's time you went and got some shut-eye. Goodnight, Dorothy. I love you," he told the girl.

How she wanted to protest, to stay by his side after realizing they hadn't much time left together, but something in his tone of voice told her otherwise. She had honored her uncle always, and would not disobey what may have very well been his last request. "Goodnight, I love you, too," she said again as she rose to leave, her hand free to move now.

"You promise, don't you, Dorothy?" He called again as her hand reached the door knob.

"I promise," she replied, even if she wondered if her uncle could comprehend what he had just told her. But the way he had said what he did - and the wonderful memories of Oz and its inhabitants, be they real or fictitious, would make her honor the covenant.

And Uncle Henry must have believed her. For, the following morning Dorothy awoke to find that he had begun his journey back to Aunt Em. And, amidst the sadness and agony, the girl knew that she would have to set out on an expedition of her own, or at the very least, try to. After all, she had made a promise.


	5. Chapter 5

Dear Readers,

And here it is. I never thought I'd have this chapter ready already, but I guess I have! A very big thank-you goes out to Hobbit Babe, Fauna Greywolf, and pucktofaerie. You guys are amazing and your encouragement is the reason this chapter is here, here and now. I must warn you all in advance that this chapter is huge, and I hope you don't mind. If you do, I am very sorry, but I couldn't find a way to divide it so that I liked it. I hope very much that you enjoy it. Thank you all once again!

-H.C. Glennteade

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor claim to own, any part of MGM's 1939 movie, The Wizard of Oz. All characters and locations mentioned here are property of their respective owners and creators.

* * *

The afternoon sun beat down unmercifully on the farm as Dorothy traipsed from the little farmhouse to the horse barn's entrance, where Hunk, Hickory, and Zeke were hitching up the farm's team of bay geldings to the wagon. The past few days had been a whirlwind for them all, and a somber, eerie silence still hung over the farm. Uncle Henry's funeral had come and gone, and life was - albeit dolefully - meandering on. It had to. There would always be work that had to get done. That included delivering a variety of goods the farm produced to an assorted bunch of people and places.

The trio turned to look at her as she approached.

"Well," Dorothy began, stopping amidst them, "it's all official. The papers are up in the house for you. The farm is yours. Everything is yours."

The idea was still incredulous to the three, and they couldn't help but question it. "Are you sure, Dorothy?" Hickory asked.

"Of course. But that doesn't even matter. This is just what Uncle Henry wanted, and I'm glad that it's worked out. I know you'll all do as you see fit," she responded, smiling.

"It just seems like such a big gift," Hunk mused.

"Oh, but it's not! It's-it's repayment. You all meant so much to Uncle Henry and Aunt Em. You were like the sons they never had. You're a big part of the reason this farm's going as well as it is - they know it, I know it, and you should know it, too. Over all the years, you've been so wonderful to me. I love you all and I'll miss you terribly, but you deserve this so much and you should be very happy," the girl said, pouring out her heart. She then quickly brushed a stray tear off of her cheek.

"Are you sure you really wanna go, Dorothy?" Zeke questioned.

"Yes . . . I'm sure," she replied. "Uncle Henry told me about some relatives of mine out East - cousins, I believe. He wanted me to find them someday and, who knows, maybe I could teach there. I won't take much with me. I won't need much at all. I know Uncle Henry'd want me to go, and I think it's a good idea, too, even though it's going to break my heart to leave here."

The farmhands could hardly comprehend what was going on. Henry was gone, the farm was there's, and Dorothy - the sweet, innocent little girl they had watched grow up - was going miles away from her little Kansas home to start a new life all alone. They couldn't help but be dejected, and questioning - and ever so worried.

"Do you have to leave so soon?" Hickory asked. "You know you can stay as long as you want."

"Oh, that's very kind of you, but I really have to go - tonight, I'm afraid. I can get the train in town tonight. From there, it'll be stopping in Winfield in the morning, and after that it'll be on its way to Charleston. I was able to get a ticket and I'm not sure when another train would be heading that way again."

It broke their hearts to know the young lady's mind could not be changed, but they accepted this, and were willing to help her in any way they could. Dorothy was very special to all of them, too.

"D'ya want us to take you there?" Zeke offered.

"Thank you so much," a downcast Dorothy began, "but I think it would be best if I just took one last look around tonight and slipped off. The walk to town would do me good, or I could always take old Belle." She glanced over at the molly mule in the pasture. "She's a good girl. She knows her own way home."

After hearing the young lady's plan once again, Hunk, Hickory, and Zeke knew that Dorothy understood what she was doing. By this time, the pair of geldings were ready to go, and stood obediently still as their handlers turned away to talk without distraction before they began to load up.

"I suppose if you're out long enough with the wagon then-then this might be our only chance to say good-bye," the girl realized tearfully.

"You know we're gonna be worried sick about you, kid," Zeke admitted.

"Please, don't be," Dorothy pleaded with them, "just remember me, and remember the good times we had. I'll always be thinking of you. Always."

She approached the oldest of the three first. "Goodbye," she barely managed while hugging him. Zeke returned the gesture as he pecked the top of her head.

"G'bye. You be good now, ya here?" He added with a sad smile. She nodded affirmatively before making her way over to Hickory, where a similar interaction took place.

"Don't worry, Dorothy, we'll make you proud," said Hickory.

"I don't doubt that one bit, Hickory. Goodbye."

Dorothy then made her way over to Hunk, who grasped her wrists gently. "So yuh got this all figured out, huh? Gonna head East, huh?" He asked playfully. When Dorothy answered him with a nod and a confident smile he continued, "Oh East, West . . . home is always best."

He looked around at the fields and barns that surrounded him before returning his gaze to the young girl. She would not be swayed. "Well, if you're set on going, will you at least say hello to civilization for me?" Hunk teased.

Dorothy couldn't help but laugh, the exact reaction the farmhand was looking for. "Oh, Hunk," she whispered to her friend, "please don't change."

"I won't if you won't," he bargained.

"I won't," she replied, "I promise. Goodbye." And with that, he embraced her as the others had.

"I'll let you get going," Dorothy told the three, "goodbye. Good luck. I know you'll do just fine. You know where the key is, and everything is inside. There's nothing to worry about. It's all there."

With that, they exchanged their last words of goodbye, before parting ways. The four, however, could find one common condolence to share: no matter how many miles separated them, they'd always be close at heart. And that, they realized, could never be changed.

* * *

The twilight had settled over the land as Dorothy walked into the farmhouse. Before entering, she realized the spare key had not been moved from it's hiding place, and once inside, the girl saw the variety of papers on the kitchen table had not been moved the slightest bit in any direction. This made Dorothy realize that the three had probably not returned yet, or at least decided not to disturb her. Not noticing if the wagon and horses had returned or not, she wasn't sure of either possibility.

She reached her bedroom and seated herself on her bed. Nearby stood her suitcase, packed with noting more than a few mementos, that she would try to take with her in an attempt to make her story sound convincing.

The girl sighed. How she had hated weaving a tale of trains and cousins to the farmhands, but she felt there was no other way to tell of her departure. As much as Dorothy loved them and they loved her, she feared they would not understand her journey to Oz. The three would think she was ill with the loss of Uncle Henry and imagining things. Dorothy then realized that her lie was for the best, and decided it was time to go. She reached under the bed and produced a pair of shoes: her Ruby Slippers. To her, if to no one else, they were still as extraordinary as the first day they happened upon her feet. She gingerly slipped them on and, remarkably after all the years that had passed, they still fit perfectly. A warm confidence swept over her and made Dorothy feel better about her promise to Uncle Henry than she ever had. Picking up her suitcase, she left the room.

It felt so odd to the young lady, walking around her house for the last time. She examined every inch of each room, taking in every detail possible. She would never want to forget anything about the place where she grew up. After one last glance, Dorothy backed out of the house and began to wander the farmland.

Once again, she tried to retain every possible aspect of her surroundings: the patterns of the boards of the fences, how and where hay bales were piled, the hue of every animal - there was so much that Dorothy had never seemed to realize, and it made her feel horrible for taking it for granted.

She continued on, through the barns and around the fields, recalling so many memories of Aunt Em and Uncle Henry and all of her friends. The more she thought about, the more she realized what a wonderful childhood she had been fortunate enough to have. It almost made her regret leaving, but she recalled her uncle's dying wish. He had always known what was best for her, and Dorothy was sure this final bit of guidance was no exception. With this in mind, she returned to the last place she desired to visit before leaving.

It would have been like any other piece of the ground around her, had it not been marked with a simple, wooden cross on which hung a collar. Dorothy's eyes retained a few tears as she took in the sight for the last time.

"Goodbye, Toto," she began. "Oz just won't be the same without you. Why, if it weren't for you, I may have never got back home at all. You were the best friend I ever had, boy, and I'll never, ever forget you. You meant so much to me, you were always there for me. It breaks me up that you aren't here. I'd do anything to have you back, I really would, but I know you're in a much better place now, and now Uncle Henry can keep you company, too. Goodbye, boy, and thank you for everything. Someday we'll meet again."

With that, Dorothy turned away, brushing a tear from her cheek. It was time to go back to Oz. _Oz._ The idea was now making the girl excited. How she had loved the Scarecrow, the Lion, and the Tin Man. She had always thought the Emerald City to be the most beautiful place imaginable. How she'd love to see it all again and so much more: Oz was now the Scarecrow's kingdom, and Dorothy was confident that he was doing a wonderful job. And how peaceful the citizens must be now that the Wicked Witch of the West was dead! Recalling how kind everyone had been, and just how magical Oz was, made Dorothy anxious to call it home. _Home._ Could anywhere other than Kansas ever be home? Could Oz be home? Would they be angry with her for leaving? Would they welcome her back? She knew not the answers to these questions, but she was determined to try and find out - if for no one else, for Uncle Henry.

Dorothy was ready now, ready to try. Uncle Henry's direction of _'go the way you came',_ popped into the young lady's head. She took a firm grip on the handle of her suitcase before taking one last look around her. The sky had gone dark and everything was silent, save for the calls of a few animals in the distance. How much she would miss this place. How much she would always love it. But, Dorothy was satisfied: Aunt Em and Uncle Henry were together once again, enjoying a much deserved rest, the farmhands were in control of all they had helped create so successfully, and it was now time for Dorothy to return to Oz, and everything there she had loved. It was time for Dorothy to go to her new home.

She closed her eyes, disconnecting herself from her last look of Kansas. It was the right decision, she told herself, Uncle Henry was right for picking Oz as her home.

"_There's no place like home, there's no place like home . . ._" She began to repeat to herself. The sensation of a cool breeze swept over Dorothy, and even through closed eyes, the girl could detect a type of light in front of her.

"_There's no place like home, there's no place like home . . ._" In a rush, memories of her first arrival in Oz came back to her. Meeting Glinda, the Munchkins, and eventually her companions along the Yellow Brick Road, were as vivid before her as the events were back then.

"_There's no place like home, there's no place like home . . ._"

* * *

Dorothy had lost any concept of time as the cool sensation left her. She opened her eyes and knew she was no longer on her farm. But, at the same time, nothing around her seemed familiar.

"Goodness, where am I?" The girl wondered. She took another look around. She was in a large room with high ceilings. The walls were constructed of a soft, white stone and the floor seemed to be made of a similar material. A carpet of some shade of crimson ran through the middle of the room. A few various objects were strewn about: chairs, desks, books, all complimenting the room beautifully.

"Why, Dorothy, you have returned," came a voice from behind, "I welcome you."

Dorothy shot around. Awestruck, she realized that the speaker was none other than Glinda, Good Witch of the North, in all of her coral glory. "Thank you," the girl managed while curtsying. "Is-is this your castle?" She asked.

"Yes, it is . . ." Glinda then took a good look at the girl before her. She was more mature now, but still beautiful. She wore her hair tied up at the back of her head. She no longer wore her checked dress, but a long-sleeved blouse and skirt. The witch wondered how Dorothy had found her way back to Oz, never expecting her arrival, but then caught sight of a red glimmer near the ground.

"Ah, the Ruby Slippers. They brought you back, did they not?"

"Yes," Dorothy replied gazing down at them. They were once again visible to more than just her. "It's a rather long story . . ."

"Oh, I imagine it is," Glinda agreed, "but you have come so very far, and it is still night here. I know there is much to say and be said, but for now you must rest. Come."

"Thank you so much," Dorothy replied, following behind the witch. After traveling down a hallway of much the same design as the room they had left, the two arrived at a bedroom. Between the white walls was the most comfortable looking bed the girl had ever seen, raised high and covered in white sheets and pillows. They were whiter, Dorothy imagined, than any of the bleach at the farm could have ever made them. Even though the night sky shone through from the windows, the room was still illuminated with the brightness of the bedding.

As she turned around to thank Glinda once again, Dorothy realized she had gone as quickly as she had come. Setting down the suitcase she had remembered was in her hand, the girl sat upon the bed. And, before she knew it, she was sound asleep, safe and sound in Oz once again, at long last.


	6. Chapter 6

Dear Readers,

I promise you I have not at all forgotten about the story. Starting proved a bit more difficult than originally imagining. Then, I got about a thousand words in and sort of got writer's block. But then I was able to finish it off today and so, am posting it for you all. It's another long one. I hope you enjoy it. I suppose things start to get a little more "exciting" now, and I think the chapters may come a little quicker, too. I extend copious thank-yous to Fauna Greywolf and Tori7, who took the time to review. Your support is what keeps me going. And, Tori, in response to your review, I believe the Wicked Witch of the West says it best when she says, "all in good time, my pretty, all in good time." ;) I promise you that you will in time get your resolution. And so, I'll leave you all to read now. Please enjoy! Thank you all once again!

-H.C. Glennteade

* * *

_It was a dream,_ Dorothy thought as she became conscious once again, rubbing the remaining sleepiness from her eyes, _I slept so soundly and dreamed so deeply that I thought I was back_-

For the first time that morning, the girl opened her eyes, only to realize that she was still in fact surrounded by white in Glinda's castle. "-in Oz," she finished aloud. Realizing everything that had happened was in fact reality, Dorothy's mind was plagued with a mix of emotions, but despite all of her worries and questions, an amazing sense of belonging - and something else not as easily identified - enveloped her body.

The young lady glanced around her. How tired she must have been. Her hair was still up, her slippers were still on snugly, and she had never had the chance to pull any of the luscious, alabaster covers down to sleep under. _Refreshment._ That was the other feeling engulfing the girl. Dorothy never realized how much managing her little house, caring for Uncle Henry, teaching, and completing farm chores had taken a toll on her, but one night in Oz had revealed this to her. She had never felt so relieved in all her life.

Dorothy swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked toward the nearest window, her navy skirt brushing the stone floor as she went. Clutching the rough sill, she tilted her head upwards toward the beams of light flooding in around her, dancing warmly about her face. The girl tried opening her eyes and canvassing the entire view before her, but the strong bouts of sunlight inhibited her from seeing anything more than themselves and the brilliant blue sky.

"I trust you slept well," a smiling Glinda extended from the doorway.

The witch's ability to appear so suddenly was mystifying to Dorothy, but she was comforted by it all the same. "Very well, thank you, "the grateful young lady replied. "I didn't realize how exhausted I was."

"I imagine you have traveled great lengths to get here," she reasoned, a knowing glimmer in her eyes.

"I suppose so," Dorothy agreed, "Kansas is so far away."

"How is Kansas? I should be very interested to hear of how you have been since you last left, if you would be willing to share the story with me," Glinda said.

"Of course I will," Dorothy assured. With that, the young lady propelled into an explanation of the past five years of her life: what she had done, who she had met, whom she had bid farewell to, and how she had finally left it all behind.

The beautiful witch, now standing at the window sill as well, placed a hand on one of the young girl's. "Your uncle was very wise to have you return, Dorothy," she said when the girl had finished, "you are far better off in Oz, I believe."

"I agree with you completely, but . . . how is it that he sent me here? Was Uncle Henry a wizard?"

Glinda smiled at the young lady, "No, my dear, but it is really quite difficult to explain. You see, the land you came from is much different from Oz. It has been . . . domesticated. You replace magic with all sorts of innovations. You have no use for it. There are still some people, I imagine, who have certain powers buried within them, without being magical. But, since they have no use for them, they are not very often revealed."

Glinda knew that her explanation was not very comprehensive, and could have easily given a much more concise illustration, but she did not desire to share it with the girl at all. The one who would explain the situation best to her, the wise witch knew, was time itself.

Dorothy, still rather vexed (if not more so than before), poised another question at Glinda. "Uncle Henry was never in Oz, was he?"

"I don't believe so, child. You see, before you came, our last visitor was the Wizard himself, and he had arrived many years before, and to my knowledge, he was the very first to come from so far away."

Glinda took in Dorothy's frazzled looks. "Oh, I assure you that in time, you will find the answers to all of your questions and so many more. I have no doubt of that at all. But, do not dwell on how you came here, rejoice that you are here again, among all of those who love you. I imagine that you are anxious to see the King and his Advisors."

The girl smiled at the mention of her dear comrades, but it quickly faded. "I'm not sure," she admitted.

"Why not?" The Good Witch of the North interrogated.

"Oh, I love them all so much and I miss them dearly, I truly do, but I imagine they're angry with me."

"Angry with you?" Glinda chuckled. "Whatever for?"

"Well," she began, "I left them behind. They wanted me to stay and I went back home. I'm sure I hurt their feelings."

"Oh dear, Dorothy," the older woman began, "I don't believe anything could be farther from the truth. I am confident that they are well aware that the entire reason you all met in the first place was for you to find a way back home. And, yes, you could have stayed, but that would have been a very easy thing to do. You knew just what home meant to you, that everyone was waiting for you there, and you went back. That was very noble of you. I am confident that they could not be made happier by anything than seeing you again."

The young lady blushed, "Thank you so much. That would be wonderful if that was really true, but even if it is, it wouldn't make much difference. They all have very important jobs to do. I would just be an imposition if I were to stay here. They have better things to do than to entertain an old friend. Oh, Glinda, I apologize for being here and being in your way, I-"

Glinda raised a hand to stifle the girl. How wrong she was, thinking of herself as being bothersome. Should the truth be told, Dorothy could not have picked a better time to arrive. The King had requested Glinda's help in bringing peace to Oz. In the back of her head, she had always had an idea, but could never bring it to life, so preposterous it was. But now, it just might work. It depended on Dorothy.

"Do not speak such vulgarities. You will always be a very valuable part of Oz, but if such matters concern you, than perhaps I can help you, for it would be a tremendous favor to us all if you would be willing to assist me with something."

Dorothy suddenly became cheerful at the proposition of being useful, "You know I'd do anything to help you, Glinda. What is it that you need me for?"

Eyes ablaze, Glinda responded, "Come, join me in my throne room to chat, for I fear this may be a bit long-winded." And with that, the two left their places by the window sill, Glinda hoping beyond hope that her plan would see the light of such a beautiful day.

* * *

The young Kansas girl willingly followed the witch to her throne room, which, Dorothy soon realized, was the exact room she had first found herself in. Then, with its books and desks and other assorted novelties, it did not seem like a throne room at all. Now, however, she noticed an elaborate throne and viewing area on the opposite side of the long room, which Dorothy was hardly able to believe she hadn't noticed before. Glinda personally seated the girl at the familiar end of the room before fetching her a cup of some sort of warm, delicious liquid Dorothy could not recognize. When the good witch was certain that she was as comfortable as possible, she sat beside her and began to speak.

"Now," Glinda started, "I realize that this may not make much sense at first, but please allow me to explain it all thoroughly."

"Of course," Dorothy replied as she told herself silently that she would avoid interrupting the witch.

"You see, Oz is experiencing a bit of a difficult time," she resumed before quickly adding, "the King is doing a wonderful job, he's improved the land greatly and he's very well respected, the problem is not at all his fault. What is troubling the people, however, is the Wicked Witch of the West. It seems as though some are fearful that she is not truly dead, but plotting chaos."

"Oh dear," the girl replied, "is she really still alive?"

Glinda smiled. "No one knows. I believe that she is as dead as the day you melted her, but others disagree. However, I have seen no proof that she is still alive. I suppose what's frightening the citizen is the void she has left behind. The Wicked Witch had them so terrified, that it seems the peace that now exists is frightening to them - frightening enough to make them think she is alive and well."

"That does make sense," Dorothy agreed with a nod.

"And so, the dear Scarecrow has been racking his brains, trying to restore a healthy silence to the lands of Oz, in particular, the West. He has asked me to help him, and I very willingly agreed. I even concocted a plan of my own, but never thought it could work."

The good witch paused for a moment before continuing, "You see, I figured that if a good force could inhabit the Wicked Witch's lost land, the people of Oz would be content in knowing that a good witch had taken over her kingdom, and there would be no reason to worry of her return. But, you see, I am only one witch, and I know of no others in Oz whose powers are strong enough to sustain Gillikin Country should the Wicked Witch ever truly come back to reclaim her kingdom. That is, until today."

Glinda paused once again, taking one last moment before making her request. "Dorothy," she finally began, "I am asking you for a personal favor, which would truly bring peace throughout the land for good. I am asking you to become the Good Witch of the West."

The girl blinked, believing her senses were failing her. Had she truly been asked by Glinda to become . . . a witch? She had to be dreaming, but Dorothy was frightened by the reality that she wasn't.

"But, Glinda," she replied, "you . . . you know I'm not a witch."

"That is what you told me so very long ago, but since then, you have proved to me that you are. You have done amazing things here, Dorothy, and I won't bother repeating them, for I know that you are as well aware of them as I. I know you believe that these things are the result of the Ruby Slippers, but for as powerful as they are, I do not imagine that even they could have accomplished what I know the power within you has."

"In Kansas, you were very adept, but in a different sort of way. There, you obviously had many strong qualities: strength, compassion, determination. Here in Oz, you have those same powers, but many more not evident at home. I know you can do this, Dorothy. You still have much to learn, but I will most certainly teach you all I can. You are our only hope."

"Thank you," Dorothy managed. What else could she say? Everything felt so surreal, but yet she knew that the good witch spoke the truth. Oz had been very kind to her. It would be a sin if she did not repay such a debt. "I'm still not sure that I can do this, but I'll try my best," the young lady promised.

Glinda beamed. "That is all I would ever ask of you."

They sat for a moment in silence, Dorothy taking it all in and Glinda wondering just what to do next. "There is a letter," the good witch began, "that I must write right away. While I do so," she said before rising and scouring one of her many bookshelves before grabbing an old, heavy volume, "just glimpse over this. It's a very old spell book that has served me well, and I am sure it will do the same for you. I am not expecting you to master witchcraft in a few days, but this will give you some idea of what to expect."

Dorothy graciously accepted the heavy book, opening its cover as Glinda seated herself at a mahogany desk.

The witch pulled a piece of crisp parchment in front of her before dipping her golden quill in pink ink and beginning her message. In the meantime, the girl leafed through the old book, inquisitively taking every word in.

"_Reflection Spell_," Dorothy read aloud before asking, "Glinda, what is this?"

"That spell," the witch replied while transcribing, "is just as its name suggests, although very difficult. You see, if someone is casting a spell - any spell - it allows you to reflect it back upon them, if done correctly. However, even the most magical of those who use it will always absorb at least part of the spell - the more powerful you are, the less you retain and the more is returned to the original spell caster."

_The more powerful you are._ Dorothy sighed at that part of Glinda's explanation."I'm still not certain that I'm very powerful at all."

Glinda could only smile a sad smile. "Dear Dorothy, I have much faith in you," she replied, folding her parchment and sealing it when she was confident the ink had dried, "it is time you had a little faith in yourself."

Dorothy smiled before returning to her reading. The older woman turned back to her folded message. After dipping her quill for one last time, she scrolled boldly across the front, "To His Majesty, the Scarecrow of Oz."


	7. Chapter 7

Dear Readers,

I thank you so much once again for your support of my story. Special thanks go out to Fauna Greywolf and pucktofaerie for their reviews. They really help me out a lot, and I'm very thankful for them. I hope you won't be too mad at me, but Chapter 7 is a bit of a short chapter, perhaps a "teaser" if you will. I was going to throw one gigantic chapter at you all, but the more I thought about combining them, the less I liked the idea. Nonetheless, Chapter 8 should be coming around shortly. Until then, please enjoy this little tidbit. Thank you all so much once again, I truly appreciate it!

-H.C. Glennteade

* * *

He had been standing on one of his palace's copious balconies that morning, marveling at the great Emerald City below him. How Scarecrow loved to watch its residents bustle about though, as was common in the morning hours, the streets were rather empty. The king watched an older woman, adorned in a dazzling green gown as most City women were, hurry down her steps and shuffle down the street before entering another door nearby. Shortly thereafter, a horse and carriage plodded idly down the jaded lane, for truly there was no rush to go anywhere that morning. He scanned it all one last time, pleased with the tranquility that radiated from the street. It was how the king started every day, reveling in a moment of silence before beginning his royal duties. But, that moment was up, and he turned to enter the palace once again.

Upon doing so, however, Scarecrow had come face to face with one of his many pages, offering a folded message on a silver tray. "Thank you, my good man," the king acknowledged. With a smile and a quick bow, the page scurried back inside wordlessly.

He had taken just one glance at the parchment in his hand, and quickly identified the pink, flamboyant penmanship across the front to be none other than Glinda's. Overjoyed at the prospect of good news, for he knew that the Good Witch had been keeping his request in mind, the scarecrow swiftly broke the seal and read:

_Your Majesty,_

_I have not at all forgotten. In fact, I have something in mind that just may work, and will be coming shortly to share it with you - though I may have very well arrived by now. Worry not. I refuse to impede your agenda. I'll find you when you have a moment. I urge you to continue as usual._

_Faithfully,_

_Glinda the Good, Witch of the North_

He had chuckled at her formalities, but Scarecrow was truly delighted with the news. She obviously had not wanted to interrupt his daily proceedings, and figuring she had good reason, he had not planned to seek audience with her before his official duties were complete. However, the day had gone by swiftly, for the king knew hope was awaiting him.

The sun began to set on the viridian city when Scarecrow's duties could officially be considered over. Returning to his throne room from his conference room, the king had a spring in his step, eagerness at that particular time outweighing protocol. As he continued down the long stretch of hallway, the scarecrow could not help but imagine that the Good Witch herself would be awaiting him in the throne room. It did not take long for him to learn that Glinda was always true to her word, and had a very astute way of fulfilling her promises. And so, it was no surprise at all that when the two guards swung open the doors in front of him, the king was awaited by the witch.

The doors slammed closed once again as Glinda rose to greet him.

"Glinda," Scarecrow greeted delightedly with a nod of the head.

"Scarecrow," she replied in kind with a slight curtsy, "thank you so much for having me. I'm sorry if my message earlier distracted you today."

He could only smile, "The pleasure is all mine, and if I was at all distracted today, it was entirely my fault - especially when I had an attendant find out for me if your wing of the palace was occupied."

The witch grinned, "But I come with what I hope is good news, so I am sure all of the excitement was worth it."

It was then that Glinda revealed her plan to the king, everything that she had earlier explained Dorothy. Everything, of course, except one detail.

"It sure seems to have merit, Glinda, but are you sure you've found someone who can truly take charge?"

Her smile widened, "Yes, I am quite confident in her abilities. It is true that she is still learning, but she has quite a good deal of potential, which is why I called upon her to begin with."

Scarecrow nodded intently. The idea did seem rather good, but he inwardly hoped that Glinda had found the right witch for the job - from the sounds of it, she was not well known by anyone but the witch herself, which may or may not have been a good thing.

"And you're certain she's trustworthy?"He finally voiced his concern.

"Most assuredly, I have no doubt of that," she assured.

The king pondered a moment. He knew that Glinda was a very wise woman, and would not go about anything blindly. He trusted her judgement completely, and without hesitation agreed to her idea.

"When do you wish to summon her?"He questioned.

"Oh, there is no need for that," she replied, "she is here with me."

"Here? You don't suppose she's in any sort of danger here, do you?"

"I doubt it," the witch reassured the ever-observant king, "she is currently invisible to all but me, safe in my wing. I am sure there is nothing to worry about, really, but one can never be too careful. I'd like you to meet her first, and then, should you approve, I'd like her to be introduced to your Advisors for their approval."

"Sounds perfect to me," Scarecrow agreed, "I'll be sure Tin Man and Lion are around for the occasion, and I'll clear my schedule for tomorrow, then?"

"I wouldn't hear of it!" Glinda insisted. "The longer we keep things calm, the better off everyone will be. We don't need anymore rumors flying about. Let tomorrow pass without alteration. Tomorrow evening will be ideal, as there are still a few details I must work out, and of course, ready the girl. Is that all right?"

"If it works for you, it works for me," Scarecrow replied, "tomorrow night it shall be."

"Very good," she answered, "I thank you so much for your time, I shall see you tomorrow evening."

"Tomorrow evening," he repeated, and with that, the two bade their goodnights, knowing that in a little over a day, with any luck, Oz might become a more peaceful place. And, while the king may have secretly doubted that the slightest bit, Glinda did not at all.


	8. Chapter 8

Dear Readers,

Well, here it is - the moment you seem to have been waiting for! I am very sorry to have kept you in suspense, but as was pointed out, Glinda and I are apparently very evil people ;). A huge thank-you goes out to Fauna Greywolf, pucktofaerie, and Tori7, who really put this chapter into motion via their inspiring reviews. For a moment there, I was half tempted to write a chapter for every hour of the day following the last chapter, but then I decided that I wasn't that evil and that you were all too loyal for me to put you through that ;). So, I'll stop the rambling here. I truly hope this was worth the wait! Thank you to everyone once again, I truly appreciate it!

-H.C. Glennteade

* * *

At that moment, Dorothy could not seem to recall if she had ever fallen asleep the night before or woken up that morning, but she must have. A day had somehow managed to slip through her grasp since Glinda spoke of the arrangements made with Scarecrow, the king of Oz. And very soon, perhaps in as little as an hour, she would be reunited with him and all of her friends. How happy she was. Never did the girl think that she would ever see them again. But, at the same time, she was struck with a terrible bout of uneasiness that she couldn't seem to shake loose.

"The time is almost near," Glinda said, entering the room. Dorothy, sitting on the edge of her bed, turned to see the witch take a seat beside her.

"Goodness," the older woman murmured, comfortingly tucking a strand of the girl's hair - which now fell loosely past her shoulders - behind her ear. "What is it that makes you tremble so?" Glinda questioned, assessing Dorothy's blatant fear.

The young lady's eyes met with those of the women next to her. "I - I'm still so frightened that they won't want me here. I don't really know why I worry, but things change, I suppose. Perhaps they've changed . . . I've changed." With that, Dorothy glanced at herself and her surroundings.

Upon their departure for the Emerald City, Glinda had suggested that the girl alter her appearance a bit, to better blend in with the styles that would surround her. Dorothy had wholeheartedly agreed. The results, thanks to the Good Witch of the North's magic touch, were simply beautiful. Her brown hair hung down and a simple, flowing dress replaced her Kansas outfit. She truly liked it, but it was a change she would have to get used to. Much like being a witch.

"Oh, Dorothy, you have nothing to fear. You are among old friends, and you are well on your way to becoming a brilliant witch." She took in the young lady again, as frightened as before. "You're not going to believe me, are you? Perhaps you should come with me. I think I know where to find the king and then your mind might be changed."

"Oh, Glinda, please!" Dorothy begged. "He'll see me soon enough as it is!"

"He isn't going to see you now," Glinda reasoned, "you are under my spell, don't you recall? The only one who can see you at the moment is I. Now, come along, I assure you this will put you at ease." And, with that, Dorothy felt her feet follow the witch to the doorway and out of the room.

* * *

He had somewhere to be, he knew, but he figured that detouring for a moment or two wouldn't hurt anything. The truth of it was that all of this talk of a young lady reclaiming the West pulled at memories in his vast mind, memories that were never really far from thought. Those memories had lead Scarecrow there, to the place that had best symbolized his sorrow and anguish for the absence of a very dear friend.

The king always knew that he would build such a place, but the coaxing of the residents of Emerald City had helped speed up the process. And, while Munchkinland's tribute could perhaps be considered more elegant, Scarecrow was rather pleased with the hall he had constructed in Dorothy's honor. Within the emerald walls lay a lasting memorial to Dorothy. Her likeness was formed in bronze. Her name and deeds of goodness were proclaimed all around. But, perhaps the one credit to the girl's name that could not be found in the room was the one the king and his advisors had felt was most important: being the most remarkable friend anyone had ever had.

He missed her terribly. No matter how cumbersome or whimsical he had been, she was always there for him. She had loved him, no more with brains than she had without. If it were not for her, he would not be even the smallest fraction of what he stood as presently. Scarecrow had never been able to repay half of what she had given him, and he inwardly hoped that such a structure could narrow the gap. Dorothy had deserved so much more, but with all of his superior brains, the king had only been able to conjure up very few ideas of worthy reprisal. Less tangible than his memorial was the promise that not a day would go by that Scarecrow wouldn't think of his friend. It was a promise he had kept religiously.

As his gloved fingers swept lightly over one of the bronzed Dorothy's slippers, her memory grew so much stronger. How Scarecrow hoped that she was home, safe and happy, and that harm had never truly come to her. It seemed so unfair to him that she could very well be suffering while he basked in successes that largely derived from her. And, of course, things would be so much better if they could all still be together. When he began to think like this, Scarecrow always felt terribly ashamed for his selfishness. He was now the King of Oz, and no matter what, the needs of his people would always have to come before his own personal sadness. In such times, Scarecrow would often use the brains that Dorothy had helped him receive to find solace, and from his memory he would recall wise sayings that gave him hope.

_Stick to the fight when you're hardest hit_, Scarecrow recalled, _it's when things go wrong that you mustn't quit._

"I thought you might be here," rang a gentle voice from behind. The king was separated from his thoughts as Glinda spoke out.

"Glinda, my apologies," he began.

"None necessary," she insisted, "I understand completely."

Dorothy, could hardly believe her eyes. They first fell upon the many tributes constructed for her. The girl was hardly able to comprehend what they could be for. Suddenly, like a cold breeze, the answer overcame her, and the Munchkins' promise of _we will glorify your name_ came to mind. It was all so overwhelming. It seemed so bizarre, but the girl could not recall ever feeling so touched in her life. And when her eyes caught the first shadow of Scarecrow, she shut them tightly. Dorothy, feeling rather guilty, vowed silently that she would see no more until she herself could be seen. As her eyelids locked, several tears were crushed beneath her eyelashes.

"She deserves so much more," Scarecrow mused, voicing his thoughts.

"I imagine that she would be touched just for being remembered," Glinda disagreed. The king nodded thoughtfully and silence fell over the room for a few moments.

"She said she'd miss me most of all," he finally added obscurely.

The Good Witch smiled. "She was a very honest girl."

Something in Glinda's simple response lifted Scarecrow's spirits profoundly. Somewhere, wherever she was, as he stood and recalled the happy times they had shared, she just may have been recounting the same exact memories.

"She was," Scarecrow replied with a smile. His soul growing stronger he continued, "Well, I suppose I've wasted enough of your time. Are you ready now?"

"Yes, I just need a moment to retrieve the girl. I shall meet you in your throne room in a few minutes?"

"That sounds fine. I'll be there whenever you're ready."

_Rest if you must,_ Scarecrow began thinking again, exiting the room, _but don't you quit._

* * *

Glinda and Dorothy soon returned to their wing of the palace. "Does that ease your mind?" The older witch asked. Dorothy managed a nod as she worked to compose herself. "Are you ready, now?" She asked when the young girl seemed stable.

"Yes," Dorothy responded, now confident.

The next thing she knew, Dorothy was in the scarecrow's throne room. He was seated thoughtfully behind his desk, a good hundred feet from Glinda, positioned closely to the door they had entered. Apparently, Dorothy was still invisible, for even though she stood in front of the Good Witch of the North, she was not noticed at all. Her knees began to shake as Glinda spoke.

"Your Majesty," the witch addressed in a formal tone, "it is an honor for me to introduce to you, this young lady, who I believe will be a tremendous help to us all."

The king looked rather perplexed at first, as Glinda began her introduction with no one present. But, as she slowly waved her wand in a circular motion and a young lady simultaneously took a step forward, it made more sense.

He looked at the girl for a moment. Her eyes were deep and bright, of the same color as her long hair. She was adorned in a gown of pale blue, much simpler than Glinda's, the sleeves of which were long and adorned every few inches or so with vertical insets of lace. The collar of the gown, forming a V, was made of a combination of the cloth and lace found throughout the gown. A silk belt was wrapped around her slight waist. And as the girl curtsied reverently, a pair of ruby slippers visibly adorned her feet.

_Ruby slippers_. He froze. Scarecrow glanced once again at the whole view of the girl before him, and realized that it was Dorothy. But how could that be? Certainly he was imagining things. But, suppose it was her. What could he possibly say? It was then that the scarecrow decided to greet this girl the same way he had first properly greeted Dorothy.

"How do you do?" He questioned, rising and standing in front of his desk.

"How do you do?" The girl asked back, staying where she was. A glimmer of sheer joy reflected in her eyes.

It had to be her, his dear friend, Dorothy. With all of the evidence before him, there could be no other answer. "Very well, thank you," he answered, earnestly.

He could contain himself no longer. For a moment, the king and his mannerisms escaped Scarecrow, and he bounded toward Dorothy, in a fashion she remembered clearly.

"Oh, Dorothy," he said, locked in a friendly embrace, "is it really you?"

"It's me," she reassured him, eyes wet with tears.

"But I don't understand - I thought you went home?"

"I did," she replied, "and . . . and now I have again."

Their embrace lasted for a few more moments, before both stood back to get a look at the other. For the first time, the image of Scarecrow registered in Dorothy's head. He looked truly wonderful. No more were the patches and loose straws. His kingly uniform resembled his old choice of clothing in style, made of a lavish green material that radiated with regalness. Gone was the mass of fraying rope that seemed to hold him together. What rope he bore was now more like cord and a brilliant, silver color. His boots were as perfectly black as his gloves were white. Upon his head, however, Scarecrow wore his same, old hat, a crown of gold, diamonds, and of course, emeralds, sat upon its brim.

"Oh," Dorothy said smiling as her eyes fell upon the crown. She extended a hand slightly to touch it, but decided it too informal.

Scarecrow noticed this and bent down, encouraging her to go ahead. She was taller than he remembered, but he was still the taller of the two. After a moment of hesitation, Dorothy fingered the crown before brushing the brim of the old hat and returning her arm to her side.

"It suits you well," she admired. "And you still have that hat," she commented with a grin.

"The crown was a compromise, really," he responded with a grin of his own, "they'd let me keep my hat if I wore their crown. That hat protected my head for so long, I couldn't part with it when I needed it the most."

They both laughed.

"Dear me, there's so much to catch up on. But, I fear if I don't make my Advisors aware of your presence, then I may have a revolt on my hands," he said.

"They're here, too?" a gleeful Dorothy asked.

"Just for the occasion."

With that, Tin Man and Lion were summoned in. Previously, Scarecrow had informed them of Glinda's plan, and they anxiously awaited the meeting of the new witch. Upon realizing whom she was, however, they grew ecstatic, and Tin Man's heart swelled. Soon they were lost amidst a swarm of hugs and greetings, and the most amazing sense of happiness.

Dorothy could hardly believe her eyes. Tin Man was more polished than she had ever thought imaginable, reflecting the light of the room. Lion looked as fierce and courageous as ever, his medal still proudly pinned to his chest.

"It looks as though Emerald City has been very good to you all," Dorothy commented.

"And Kansas to you," Tin Man replied.

With that, a sharp pang of guilt pierced Dorothy's heart. She knew that she had made a promise to Uncle Henry, but at the same time, the girl couldn't help feeling that she had only returned to Oz because things at home had gotten tough. Would she have even remembered Oz if things had been better?

"If you want me to leave, I'll try and go back," Dorothy said tearfully, before being scooped into a comfortable hug by her friends.

"Leave?" Lion asked. "Do ya know how long we've been waitin'for ya to come back?" Dorothy smiled brightly, her tears evaporating.

"But, how exactly is it that you got here?" The scarecrow questioned, his nimble mind not able to comprehend.

"Oh, it's a very long story . . . Glinda, would you mind helping me?" Dorothy asked, turning back to the older woman, who stood where she had from the start, happily taking it all in.

"Of course not," she replied, joining Dorothy.

The young girl once again told her tale of home and everything that had happened there. She then explained how she had arrived in Oz, and Glinda's plans for her, the latter of which Glinda explained more thoroughly.

"Oh, Dorothy, it's all right now, you're here now," Tin Man, as sentimental as ever to hear of Dorothy's losses, reassured.

"You're all too kind," the young lady insisted, "you mean so much to me."

All went silent for a moment after the three friends assured her that the feeling was mutual, each seeming to wonder if everything was real or not.

"Well, I suppose the only thing left to do," Glinda pondered aloud, "is to reintroduce you to the rest of Oz."

"I hope they're happy to see me," Dorothy said, forgetting for a moment that more than the people and things around her existed.

"Oh, Dorothy," the Good Witch mused with the brightest of smiles, "I believe that is a thought you no longer have to ponder."


	9. Chapter 9

Dear Readers,

Once again, I thank you for your patience as I deciphered this chapter. I was stuck for quite some time, but managed to work out what I wanted. After overcoming some technical difficulties, the chapter is ready! I am sorry if this one is short, but it's another one of those "go-between" types. A big thank you to Fauna Greywolf, pucktofaerie, and Hobbit Babe (for both reviews!) for their insightful reviews. I appreciate them all. I hope that you will all enjoy this and that everything is not too predictable. But, being the very evil person you have come to realize I am, maybe I'll have a surprise or two in store for you yet! ;) Thanks very much! Enjoy!

-H.C. Glennteade

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor claim to own, any part of MGM's 1939 movie, The Wizard of Oz. All characters and locations mentioned here are property of their respective owners and creators.

* * *

The normal tranquility that draped over Emerald City was at once overturned and replaced by an air of exuberance and celebration. All notions of underlying evil seemed to capsize as the return of Dorothy Gale was proclaimed to the lands. And, what's more, her triumph over both Wicked Witches had earned her the title of Good Witch of the West. The citizens of Oz, since years before, had been captivated by the feats of the intriguing girl. Her return brought them a sense of peace. Feeling there was nothing to fear now that they were under the protection of Dorothy's great abilities, the countries burst into great jubilation. The feeling of exhilaration radiated most profoundly from the Emerald City, where the announcement had been made and the witch in question was currently residing.

Residents of all four countries burst into the city in a flurry of merriment. The blaring of praiseful instruments, a storm of glitter and confetti, and the shouts and cheers of what seemed an innumerable amount of attendants crammed the city's streets. Insignia of all sorts loomed in perceptibly every window of every empty building, their occupants too eager to join in the festivities to stay closed up any longer than they had to. Such and occasion had not swept over the people in a long time, and certainly another event would not come around any time soon, if ever.

And, naturally, there was not a soul among the throngs who did not wish to see the young foreigner again. Catching a glimpse of Dorothy proved to be a rather inconsiderable task. With such a fuss afoot, the witch seemed to always be present. To them all, she looked both similar and different to the young girl that once graced their world. A more Oz-inspired gown now adorned her, as did a silver tiara of sorts. A basket could no longer be found in her hands, but rather a delicate argent wand, similar in style to the Good Witch of the North's, but hardly comparable in terms of flamboyance.

It was very obvious that Dorothy still retained the simplicity she had as a youth, and, even more apparently, perhaps, her beauty. Not only was she blessed with her charming physical attributes, but many of the personality traits the people of Oz remembered the little girl possessing had been reborn into her adult form. Her radiant smile still shimmered with thankfulness as her ears absorbed the calls of admiration. Her cheeks still grew crimson with the increasing amount of attention she received, perhaps doubting that she deserved it.

But, as the onlookers below burst into another round of applause when the Good Witch of the West, accompanied by the Good Witch of the North and the King of Oz, emerged onto a balcony above to greet the throngs, there was no doubt at all that Dorothy, and the duo standing beside her, for that matter, deserved every bit of attention they were receiving. Except, perhaps, for one green-clad city dweller.

Somewhat distanced from the main mass of the crowd she stood, smiling broadly at the figures above. Her happiness, however, sprang from a source different from that of those around her. She had been able to slip into a routine in the Emerald City unquestioned. After the arrival of Dorothy - and the many who would follow - the woman felt even more secure. What relieved her the most, however, was knowing that the King himself had seen her and thought nothing of it. Yes, earlier that week, the scarecrow had stood on that same balcony, idly surveying the streets. And she, rather purposefully, had just happened to mosey down one such street. The woman chuckled to herself. Nothing was going to ruin her plans.

Her dark eyes refocused on the platform above, just in time to see the King extend a bent arm to Dorothy and escort the little lady back inside.

"Enjoy him, my pretty," she whispered with faint amusement, "for his hours are numbered."

Having no further interest in being there, the woman turned and left the crowd behind, unremarked.


	10. Chapter 10

Dear Readers,

So, here it is! I know I'm a little late, and I apologize. I had to make sure I had just the right amount of evil in this chapter - though I'm sure you will determine if it is too much or too little. A very big thank-you to Tori7, Fauna Greywolf, Hobbit Babe, and pucktofaerie for their reviews. They helped tremendously, and it's nice to see that you're loyal to your king (and a tad evil yourselves.) I hope this chapter does not disappoint. I'll let you get reading now. Thank you all once again, I appreciate it! Please enjoy!

-H.C. Glennteade

Edit 11/7/06 - It seems as though silly me made an error in my hastiness last night and posted the unedited version of the chapter! My apologies for those of you who had to endure my annoying grammar errors. They're all fixed now, and a few little things change about, but the actual storyline hasn't been changed at all.

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor claim to own, any part of MGM's 1939 movie, The Wizard of Oz. All characters and locations mentioned here are property of their respective owners and creators.

* * *

She could not contain a giggle as they trudged down the hallway, leaving the aperture of the balcony farther behind them with each step. It was her happiness, her modesty, and her ever-present sense of unreality that made her do so. Dorothy could not help but notice how empty the hallway was, vacant of its occupants who were still down in the city streets. 

"I'm sure it will fill right back up now," the witch observed. Scarecrow chuckled himself.

"Perhaps, but I believe we've got a bit of time - Glinda is still out there."

"Enough time to meet up with Tin Man and Lion?" Dorothy questioned.

"I imagine so . . . hah - my overzealous Advisors! They're practically the only ones in this city left working. I made sure that they agreed to meet us in The Garden, however, and I'm sure they'll honor their word," the king mused.

"Oh dear, I've turned this place upside down, haven't I? I feel just horrible," the girl admitted.

"There's no reason for that," Scarecrow insisted, "it's a glorious occasion. We've all missed you terribly. You know that."

She couldn't help but blush, and the two continued down the winding corridors in silence for a few moments.

"Dorothy," he began, slowing his stride a bit, "have I made you proud?"

"Proud?" Dorothy asked, astounded, "what do you mean?"

The king hesitated for a minute, gathering his thoughts and words. "Just what I asked, I imagine," he reassured, "if I made you proud. I know at first the people were a bit fearful of me being king, with my whimsical ways, but I showed them that I can rise to the occasion and they no longer worried.

I've tried my hardest for them, Dorothy. I've used every ounce of the brains I've come to realize I have, and I truly thought that Tin Man and Lion and I had done great things. But now you've come to find the citizens in disarray, worrying about danger and evil, and I must be a terrible disappointment, mustn't I be?"

The witch could hardly believe what her friend had said. "Oh, Scarecrow, just the opposite! You've done a wonderful job. You love the people and they love you, too. Fear is a very big thing to lose, and they know how much you're trying to help them. Back in the world where I came from, we learned about the kings who throughout history tried to rule one piece of land or another. And, most of those kings had put their own desires before their subjects'. You're not like that, Scarecrow, and that's what makes you different from any king I've ever known of. That's what makes me so proud of you."

It was a rather large compliment from a person the king very much admired. Just moments earlier he had thought himself a mediocre ruler, but the sincerity in Dorothy's analysis had given him new hope and new strength.

"Thank you," he said, finding himself in a friendly embrace, "I trust your judgement most of all."

It was at this time that the two realized they had stopped, just before the gigantic doorway of The Garden. Thinking their friends were probably awaiting them inside, the two went to greet them.

"A rarity indeed," the king marveled as he entered, finding the grand place deserted of everyone except Tin Man and Lion.

The Garden was more magnificent than any other in the Emerald City. It covered a massive area. Broken was the usual backdrop of green with the most beautiful plants of every hue. Gorgeous flowers of all shapes and sizes could be found neatly throughout. There were small copses dotted about, their little trees symmetrically planted and neatly trimmed. A shimmering pond could also be seen, on which swam graceful swans - some pure white and others a dazzling jade. In the center of it all was a large, exquisite gazebo crafted from natural wood, meeting the garden with a gently sloping ramp made of timber planks. It was here on the veranda that the Advisors stood waiting.

"Glad ta see ya were able to avoid the rush," Lion remarked as his two friends made their way up the ramp.

"For the time being," Scarecrow replied, "I'm glad to see you were able to tear yourselves away from you work."

They all laughed. "A humanitarian's work is never done," commented Tin Man. The other three agreed and plunged into conversation.

It was not long, however, before the first town's person found their way into the Garden.

"I told you so," an amused king whispered. The grin, however, was wiped off of his face as the many titanic doors to the garden swung shut violently at once and what had previously been the citizen became a great billow of red smoke. All four were nearly numb with fright as an all too familiar cackle erupted from an all too familiar green figure, who was standing at the base of the ramp.

"So, we meet again," snickered the Wicked Witch of the West shrilly. "I hope you've enjoyed your little folly, gentlemen, but I fear your fun is over. Don't worry, I'll make sure your kingdom is well looked after." She screeched again before turning to Dorothy, as if realizing her for the first time.

"Why, if it isn't our heroine! You've returned to help us all, have you, my pretty? Well, you have my gratitude for bringing me back my shoes!"

The Wicked Witch gazed hungrily at them, appearing greener than ever. The four stood stone still, as if paralyzed by her very gaze. "I told you my plan for your demise long ago, and I have little alterations to make - except that it looks like someone has taken care of the little dog for me. But you, my pretty," she addressed Dorothy with the most vicious stare, "will not be as lucky as you were once destined to be. I wouldn't dream of killing you now. Oh no, you're going to live a long, miserable life, watching everything you love whither and die.

And we're going to start with your three noble friends. They have the luxury of a swift death, but not without pain I assure you. The sooner they're gone, the sooner I can get on with my plans. We'll see which one you miss most of all, my pretty."

Dorothy remained affixed in her place, watching the witch below begin a spell that would surely destroy all three of her dear friends. She could hardly bear to witness such an event. There before her was a witch who was supposed to be dead, resurrected and trying to murder the rulers of Oz, whom she loved very much. She glanced quickly at the three, who were immobilized by the Witch's evilness. It was a cruel fate indeed that the witch had constructed for her, much worse than the first threat she received.

It was then that Dorothy suddenly realized something. The last time the woman had been threatened by the Wicked Witch of the West, she was merely a young girl. Now she had returned much stronger, much wiser with life's lessons and with abilities that deemed her a witch. She had become much more powerful, and suddenly realized that if she put her mind to it, Dorothy could overcome the problem before her, or at least try to. She had to try. So much depended on this one attempt. The citizens of Oz needed her, and that was the exact reason Dorothy was there to begin with.

But what could she possibly do? Time was of the essence, she knew, and Dorothy began searching her brain for something that would work. It dawned on her then. She would have to try the very first spell she had ever heard of - the spell Dorothy was convinced she was not capable of casting. The Reflection Spell. This seemingly impossible task was the only chance the good witch had of saving everything. The spell suddenly vivid in her mind's eye, she began to lowly mutter the incantation as the Wicked Witch was chanting an invocation of her own at the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion, seemingly oblivious to Dorothy.

She uttered the last words before pointing her wand at the Wicked Witch of the West and lunging forward. The heel of one of her Ruby Slippers became entangled in a crack between two of the ramp's planks, and Dorothy found herself falling even faster towards her enemy. Just after a blaring red light shot from the Wicked Witch's fingers, a brilliant white light burst from the end of Dorothy's wand, hitting the red light's path head on. A shadow of the scarlet light flooded Dorothy's body and even more of it ricocheted off of the wand's milky beam and struck the Wicked Witch squarely.

Both witches fainted swiftly to the floor and a blood curdling moan of pain and defeat shattered the air. Suddenly free from the Wicked Witch's icy gaze, the three rushed to Dorothy's side, incredulous to what had just happened.

"Dorothy?" Scarecrow asked as the other two rushed to prop her up. He could hardly stand the sight of the girl, his dear friend who he depended so much on for support, laying limply on the ground as a result of her attempt to save him.

She opened her eyes laboriously, making a great effort to prop up. "It will be all right now," she insisted, "it'll be all right now." With that, the little strength Dorothy had left escaped her body, and she sank back into the arms supporting her.

The three stayed in their positions, devastation and shock permitting them from moving any further. Just a split second later, the doors reopened as fast as they had closed, and a panic-stricken Glinda rushed in.

"Goodness! I'm too late!" She shrieked looking at the display before her. There lay the two witches of the West, the exact opposites of each other: one very good and one very wicked, one hideous and one beautiful, one rather old and one still young. As the Good Witch of the North took another glance at the two, another more distinct difference became visible. One of them was dead, and one of them was still faintly breathing.


	11. Chapter 11

Dear Readers,

I tried to be a little quick about this one - and I suppose I'm ahead of my expected completion time by a few hours. I'll take it. I would like to once again thank Hobbit Babe, Fauna Greywolf, and Tori7 for their reviews. I'm very grateful for your continued support and hope that you, and everyone out there, will enjoy this chapter. Please note that no guarantees are made or implied by this chapter ;). Thank you all once again! Please enjoy!

-H.C. Glennteade

* * *

Despite his crown, his kingdom, and all of his power, Scarecrow was the most useless creature in all of Oz, or at least in his mind he was. What else could he consider himself? Beyond the closed door, Glinda and all of her magical knowledge was trying to assist the best apothecaries in Oz in finding a remedy for Dorothy - anything that might save her life.

And there he sat, waiting for the smallest shred of news. The king didn't know how long he had been there for, though it felt like a much longer span of time than he had ever spent in his cornfield. His solitude did not help matters much, either, but Tin Man's ever-sensitive heart could simply not bear being there, and so the Lion, who despite his courageousness could not endure the anguish either, volunteered to go with him to clear their heads.

How desperately he wanted to empty his own mind, but the events of that evening could not escape him and the scarecrow would not dare leave. The night had started off so wonderfully: the Emerald City was so delighted to see her, the air was so jovial and not a thing in the world could dampen the town's spirit. But something did. Everyone's greatest fear came true, the Wicked Witch came back with vengeance. Scarecrow could almost understand why she would do so, even if he couldn't fully comprehend that she was still alive. What he just couldn't fathom, however, was why Dorothy, his sweet and angelic friend, would risk her own life to save him and his advisors. Of course, the king knew that it was the girl's nature to do such a thing, and decided the better question to ponder was why she would do it.

She had just come back from a place so far away, as Scarecrow had always secretly wished she would. He got his wish, and could not have felt any more miserable. He had wanted Dorothy to find safety and happiness in Oz, and companionship with friends that had truly cared about her. And now, the only thing the land had been able to give her was pain, and perhaps even death. Why did she have to risk her life for a man of straw, a man of tin, and a lion? Surely she was worth more than all three of them combined, and yet she was the one lying in bed dying and they were the ones mourning for her.

What he wouldn't give to make her well again. Scarecrow would willingly surrender his happiness, his life, even his kingdom. How could he ever rule his lands again, anyway? From the very beginning, the king found his happiness and strength in the possibility that wherever Dorothy was, she was happy. When she had returned, Scarecrow had grown confident that he could become one of the greatest kings there ever was, with the Good Witch of the West's guidance and inspiration. But if the unthinkable happened - if his dear friend died - what would be left to motivate him? Dorothy was the one who accepted him for what he was, and who was the reason that he became king. Scarecrow owed every good thing that had ever happened to him to the girl. Nothing would be the same without her. For him, there would _be_ nothing without her.

His mind spinning like a wheel, the scarecrow did not notice Glinda come through the once-closed door until she stood before him.

"Is she-?" Scarecrow dared to ask before being cut off.

"No, no," the Good Witch of the West responded hastily after seeing the look of terror on the king's face. "She hasn't woken up yet," she added more somberly, "but we've done everything we can. The only thing left to do is hope."

The king was impacted hard with the reality of it all. "What is it that's hurting her?" He managed to ask.

"Well, you see," Glinda sighed, "the spell that the Wicked Witch used was very powerful. Any harm done to the physical body may have been doom for dear Lion, but would have little effect on yourself or Tin Man, and so she tried something that would be able to work on all of you at once." Glinda put her hand on her heart.

"She tried to go after your souls. And Dorothy seemed to step in just in the nick of time with a spell that would reflect the Wicked Witch's back onto her, even if it meant she absorbed some of it. Honestly, Scarecrow, with Dorothy so new to the craft and for the Wicked Witch being as forcible as she was, I would more expect Dorothy to be the one dead and the Wicked Witch to survive it easily. I suppose she had more skill than she knew - more than even I knew. Though, I imagine the worst place Dorothy could have been struck was the soul, and that is why she is in the condition she is in."

The Good Witch of the North's recitation gave Scarecrow a mix of emotions. He had never felt more guilty or more worried, but he had never felt more hatred towards anything than he did for the Wicked Witch of the West at that moment.

"Are you sure she's dead?" The king inquired, not trusting the obvious evidence.

"Very, do not worry about that. There is no way she can ever cause harm to anyone again. I would swear my life on it."

The assuredness of Glinda's reply comforted Scarecrow a bit, but in an attempt to truly attain relief, he posed another question at her. "Dorothy will be fine, won't she?"

The witch could see the concern in Scarecrow's eyes. He loved her so much, she knew, and he would not be able to bear the truth. "Stay with her," she directed, throwing her head in the direction of the open door, "don't leave her side. If anything happens - if you need me - summon me. Never give up hope for her, or she will have no hope left at all."

Something in Glinda's tone of voice made the scarecrow sense an urgency, and so after a quick yet comprehensive thank-you, the two parted ways. Glinda rushed out of the room and Scarecrow hurried in to see Dorothy.

He found the place empty of everyone previously scurrying about, and then recalled the Good Witch's comment of everything being done that possibly could be. He found a seat beside Dorothy's bed and sat down. The picture before him was the most abominable thing he could ever imagine having to absorb.

Before him was his most revered friend, her small figure seemed even smaller, engulfed by the support of the bed like Tin Man's and Lion's arms had supported her earlier. Her breaths were still labored and shallow. Her skin had gone extremely pale, and seemed to even reflect a sickly, greenish tint. It was when he discovered this that Scarecrow silently wished that the same horrendous color that surrounded him didn't exist at all. Dorothy's beautiful brown eyes were hidden away by her eyelids. The king recalled the last time he had seen them open. She was trying to persuade him that everything would be all right. Her eyes had drunk in his image and Dorothy had tried hard to keep her gaze there, but she couldn't, despite her fighting. Could that moment, which now seemed so distant in history, have been their last together? Could those have been the last words the Good Witch of the East ever spoke to Scarecrow? Could that have been the last time their eyes ever met?

The scarecrow tried to recall what Glinda had insisted he do. He could not give up hope for Dorothy. He would have to fight for her. To aid him in his quest, Scarecrow paused for a moment to think.

'What would Dorothy do if she were sitting in this chair, watching the one she loved so much suffer? She'd do anything to help them.'

It was then that Scarecrow tried to recollect how he helped himself in times of despair. He recalled how not long ago, he had stood at the girl's bronzed figure, encouraging himself to continue on when pain had weighed him down so badly.

Leaning closer to the bed he began in much the same way, "Success is failure turned inside out, the silver tint of clouds of doubt. You can never tell how close you are, it may be near when it seems so far."

For a moment, he stopped, wondering if it was any help to tell Dorothy something she couldn't hear. Something inside of him, however, told him it was.

"So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit," he continued, "it's when things seem worse that you must not quit."


	12. Chapter 12

Dear Readers,

I can hardly believe this is the twelfth chapter I'm putting up! Your encouragement and inspiration is certainly the biggest reason why it's here. I'd like to thank Hobbit Babe, Fauna Greywolf, and Delibird for there reviews. Each one means so much to me, they really do. I'd also like to thank Fauna for hearing me out on a lot of story ramble lately, I truly owe you won. Many thanks also go to Delibird for giving me the biggest compliment I could ever hope to receive and just about making me cry. It really is a pleasure for me to put these chapters up, and I can only hope that you guys enjoy them. So to all of my readers, thank you!

And just one more note - I began to think this chapter might be on the confusing side, so to clarify for you all:** the second half of the chapter, the part in italics, is a dream! **I know this chapter is on the shorter side as well. I promise the next one will be rather lengthy. So I'll shut up now. Many, many thanks! Please enjoy!

-H.C. Glennteade

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor claim to own, any part of MGM's 1939 movie, The Wizard of Oz. All characters and locations mentioned here are property of their respective owners and creators.

* * *

"Maybe we shouldn't be here," Lion offered as he and his comrades entered the Garden.

"We should," insisted Scarecrow.

"Dorothy would never want us to abandon this beautiful place on account of - what happened," reasoned Tin Man, who was doing his best to put on a brave face. Another day had passed and Dorothy was still trapped in a languid slumber.

They agreed, but at the same time, the once-wonderful place did not seem so spectacular anymore. For, just in front of them, they could almost see a pillar of scarlet haze erupt. They could faintly hear the Ruby Slippers clatter against the ground as their heroine tripped out of them, making a decisive and daring effort to save the souls of those in danger. And they could almost feel her amber eyes fall upon them, using her last bit of strength to convince them that everything would be all right. Such a statement seemed incomprehensible to the three, but Dorothy had never led them astray before. And so they congregated in that lurid place, taking a step towards assuring themselves - and all of Oz - that the Good Witch of the West had not spoken untruthfully.

"I'm so ashamed," Tin Man began to Lion, "we were so concerned with work that we barely spent time with her. Everyone else in the city seemed to make time, but we didn't, and look at what she sacrificed for us."

Scarecrow could not help but recall Dorothy's blushing and nervousness among the throngs, which had since transformed their vivacity into mourning, noting the both terrible and wonderful event that had occurred.

"I'm sure she didn't mind," he reassured. "Now that I look back, I think maybe all of the fanfaring made her uncomfortable, but she never protested. And she still did what she did. I don't think I will ever understand it."

The two agreed with him. What made a scarecrow, a tin man, and a lion worthy of the girl's efforts, as if everything else she had given them was not enough? They continued to ponder such thoughts until, finally, the king broke the silence.

"Gentlemen," he started, still deep in thought, "it is good that we are here, but I think there is another place that we ought to be at. We have to try to repay Dorothy somehow, and this certainly is not the best way to do it. She needs us now. We should be with her."

His advisors realized their selfishness and quickly concurred, leaving to be at Dorothy's side as she had always been at theirs.

* * *

_The air had changed around her and confusion filled her head. Surely she was awake. All she had to do was open her eyes to prove it, but the ability to do so had somehow escaped her, and so she accepted the darkness around her._

"_You're going to pull through, aren't you?" A familiar voice rang from the darkness. _

"_I-I'm not sure," the girl admitted to the voice, eyes still shut._

"_You must. You must. I have seen you overcome greater hardships, and you're no longer alone. Your friends care so much about you. They are hoping for you, worrying about you. Don't doubt yourself now, Dorothy, you've come too far. You know you can do this. Everyone does."_

_Suddenly, the pieces fell together. What could only be identified as Kansas was in the air. The bed beneath her felt just like the one she had occupied back at the little farmhouse. The voice sounded just like - _

"_Uncle Henry?" She called to the blackness. _

_But she was all alone then. Only his words lingered on._


	13. Chapter 13

Dear Readers,

First and foremost, I'd like to thank Hobbit Babe for her review of the previous chapter. The time that anyone has taken to review this story has always meant a lot to me.

That being said, I can hardly believe this is the last chapter of the story. I'd like to thank Fauna Greywolf for giving me my very first review, and listening to me ramble about all things Oz. I'd also like to sincerely thank Hobbit Babe, Tori7, pucktofaerie, and delibird for all of the support they've given me. Your continual reviews really meant a lot to me. You are all the reason I kept going with this story, and so I dedicate this final chapter - and truly, the whole story - to you.

This is a very long chapter, as I had promised, and directions I gave in the previous chapter will carry over to here. I'd like to thank any readers and/or reviewers in advance, as I most certainly won't just forget about the story now that it's complete. Some slight edits may come in the future, and who knows. Perhaps the end is just the beginning ;).

Thank you all once again for everything, I truly appreciate it. As always, please enjoy!

-H.C. Glennteade

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor claim to own, any part of MGM's 1939 movie, The Wizard of Oz. All characters and locations mentioned here are property of their respective owners and creators.

* * *

How long could this go on for? It was a question that constantly encircled Scarecrow's head that night as he continued to watch over his motionless Dorothy. How much he would love for her to be well again, to return to her enthusiastic and caring self, but, perhaps even if she succumbed to her ailment, it would be for the best. Most certainly, Scarecrow would forever be pained with her loss. Of course, her passing would still be terribly unfair and undeserved, but if such a thing meant that Dorothy would not have to suffer - and surely she had to be experiencing anguish of some sort - than perhaps she would be better off. The king had made a new wish. No longer did he wish for his dear friend to live, for he discovered that such a desire was rooted only in his own selfishness. Rather, all that he wanted was for her to receive the comfort and tranquility she had very much earned.

He suddenly hated being there alone, and imagined having to break such horrendous news to his friends should Dorothy leave them. It being so late in the evening, Lion had left to sleep, albeit reluctantly. Glinda had accompanied Tin Man out of the room, also against his will. He had wanted to stay by Dorothy's side, but his emotions would never permit him to stay very long before he would begin to rust and need to compose himself. And so Scarecrow alone lingered at her bedside, with only the darkness accompanying him.

His gaze a thousand miles away, the king pondered a time long past when he was nothing more than an ordinary scarecrow. He recalled his meeting with a fascinating little girl who encouraged him to seek what he desired so much, as she planned on doing. He remembered how every brick in that yellow road brought a new lesson, a new friend that helped them overcome the obstacles in their path. Even long after they had said goodbye, Dorothy and all of the wonderful moments that he had experienced because of her guided him through the many days of her absence that would follow. It was then that he realized that no matter what happened, those memories would always live in his heart and mind, and just maybe, they would live on in hers, too.

It was amidst such pondering that Scarecrow was startled back into reality. He refocused on his friend just in time to watch one of Dorothy's delicately folded hands break loose from its position on her waist and fall slowly to her side. In awe, he kept his full attention on her, waiting and hoping for another motion. It came soon after as her neck turned slowly and her hazel eyes opened with a squint, finally making contact with the rest of the world.

"Dorothy!" Scarecrow managed softly, never being happier in his life.

Her eyes searched for the possessor of the voice, and a rush of excitement surged through her body as she found her beloved friend.

"You're all right!" Dorothy exclaimed, her voice still weak.

"Only if you will be," he admitted, the arousal of the girl making him realize just how much he loved her.

She looked at him for a moment, a soft glaze engulfed her eyes and a smile spread across her face. "I will be," she insisted, trying her hardest to sit up straight.

He abandoned his chair and knelt at the bedside, taking her hand in his.

"What's hurting you?" He asked.

The girl gazed at her dear friend, and could barely stand the despair in his eyes. She imagined that he had spent an awful amount of time worrying about her since the incident, however long ago that was. All she wanted at that moment was for his anxiety to be put to rest.

"I'm fine, really," she tried to convince him, "I'm just a little . . . groggy I suppose."

She watched the panic in his cerulean eyes fade slightly and felt much better. Suddenly, she realized they were alone, and began to worry herself.

"Is everyone all right?" Dorothy inquired, looking around the empty room.

The king followed his friend's gaze and suddenly realized what was concerning her. "Oh, yes! Everyone is just fine. Let me get them - will you be all right here for a moment?"

"Oh, certainly, but you don't have to bother-"

"No bother at all," he subdued her concerns, "I'll be right back."

With that, Dorothy watched him caper out of the room and beamed, glad that he was returning to his old self.

It seemed almost instantly to her that Scarecrow was back, leading their friends into the room. Soon, the Good Witch of the West was caught amidst a flurry of gentle acclamation. Glinda knelt where Scarecrow had previously. Tin Man occupied the space opposite the Good Witch of the North on the other side of the bed, joined by Lion opposite Scarecrow.

"Is she dead?" Dorothy asked Glinda as she brushed a strand of hair out of the girl's eyes in her usual motherly fashion.

"Very. She will never harm you or anyone else again," the older witch assured her.

The young lady felt horrible for killing the Wicked Witch, but slowly began coming to terms with the fact that there was no other way to protect Oz from her wrath.

"How long was I asleep for?" Dorothy questioned.

"A couple of days," Glinda responded. "Are you feeling poorly?"

"Not-not really," she replied as Glinda took a hold of her hand.

"Dear me, you're freezing!" She exclaimed upon realizing the temperature of the girl's skin.

On the opposite side, Tin Man instinctively took hold of her other hand. Just after, he remembered that his metal hand could give none of the warmth that Glinda's could. Embarrassed by his blunder, he was about to release his hold on her before Dorothy tightened her grasp. Tin Man's heart fluttered as he once again felt the love of his dear friend.

"I'll be just fine, I'm sure, with a little more rest," Dorothy insisted, "I hate to see you worry so."

All four of them smiled at her before Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion rose, somehow sensing that Glinda wanted to be alone with Dorothy.

"Then we better let you get it, "Scarecrow reasoned.

"I don't understand, Dorothy," Tin Man finally confessed before leaving, "why did you put yourself in the Witch's path, just on account of us?"

Her smile grew, hoping it compensated for her inability to give a lengthy explanation. "It was nothing you haven't done for me," she managed.

"We still owe ya, something, Dorothy. Just ask for anything, and it'll be yours," Lion encouraged.

The girl realized that the three could not comprehend her vision of equality. Not wanting them to agonize over the matter anymore, she conceded to their plea.

"All right, I'll do just that," she replied. "I am going to ask each of you for something very valuable, something I'm not sure I am even worthy of requesting. I ask you for your friendship."

Tin Man chuckled. "Of course you're worthy of it, but that's something you've had since the beginning."

"Then I'll never ask for anything again. If I have your friendship and you have mine, then there is nothing more I could ever want."

Her friends were deeply touched, and it dawned on them just how lucky they were to have Dorothy in their lives. Recalling their plan of departure, they each filed past Dorothy's side for a brief and heartfelt word of parting before leaving her alone with Glinda.

"Glinda, there's still something I just don't understand," she mused, "how is it that I defeated the Wicked Witch of the West?"

The Good Witch smiled. "I have told you from the beginning that you underestimated yourself terribly. I do believe this proves it. You have a great skill, Dorothy, you have no reason to ever doubt yourself again."

Something still kept the girl from being convinced. "But, couldn't the Ruby Slippers have given me the power? Surely anyone wearing them would be helped by them."

Glinda shook her head. "That may be true, but even I do not know just how strong their magic is. What I do know, though, is that they were of little help to you, for apparently you tripped right out of them before they could assist you."

She watched as a spark of surprise enveloped Dorothy's eyes, removing some of the doubt.

"You see, my dear," she continued, "some people have incredible strength, even though it may seem that they don't. You, dear Dorothy, have a terrific strength, a strength you seem to only use when the ones you love are in need of it. But, when you let it shine through, you accomplish amazing things."

Suddenly, Dorothy understood everything. Not only did she know how the events of the past few days unfolded, but she found the answer to a question that had long been grating on her mind.

"That's how Uncle Henry was able to send me to Oz to begin with, isn't it?"

"Exactly so," Glinda beamed, so proud of Dorothy for understanding. "He loved you very much, and would do anything to keep you safe, and through his extraordinary ability, you arrived here."

"Oh dear," the girl marveled, overcome by her new insight, "I never would have imagined learning any of this or experiencing any of this."

"But it's good that you have," the Good Witch of the North replied, "and now all that is left for you to do right now is rest. Don't speak another word, just ease your mind."

Dorothy obeyed Glinda's wish and said nothing as the older witch kissed her forehead and silently left. The advice she had given suddenly seemed wonderful, and she closed her eyes, overcome with relief.

* * *

"_I'm so proud of you," Uncle Henry murmured to his niece as their eyes met. From beside him, Aunt Em grinned broadly. "I knew you'd be better off here, Dorothy," he continued, "the journey is not over yet, though. You will have plenty more experiences to learn from, but you have done wonderfully so far, and I know you'll do just fine."_

"_I miss you," she admitted, "and the farm and everyone back in Kansas."_

"_Don't worry about us," he insisted, "there's no reason to. There's nothing to worry about back home. The boys are doing very well. Just worry about yourself. Everyone still loves you Dorothy, and we'll always be watching over you."_

_Without notice, Toto hopped up onto the bed, licking his friend's face and wagging his tail. Dorothy scooped him into a warm embrace, realizing just how much she missed him._

"_I love you," she addressed them, looking up from the little dog. "I owe you so much."_

"_No," he insisted, "you don't. But you owe it to yourself to be happy, and to make the most of every single day. Just never forget us. We'll always be here for you as long as you keep us in your heart."_

"_I never will," Dorothy replied, "I promise."_

* * *

Dorothy would always keep the memories of Kansas within her as many wonderful days in Oz would pass her by. However, just like in Kansas, the day would never come when Dorothy broke a promise to her uncle. 


End file.
